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Tuesday, April 8, 2014

G is for Grave

When I sat down to write this drabble, I knew I wanted to use the word "grave" for inspiration, but I didn't want it to be a typical story about someone visiting a grave. I hope I pulled that off.

Grave

The gravesite was nicely manicured. Visitors tended to feel comforted by
well-tended cemeteries.

Stan shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his eyes wandering
over the headstones surrounding him.

“Is it weird that I’m here?” he wondered aloud, knowing that
no one else was there to hear him.“I
told my best friend about this, and he laughed.”He knelt down in front of the headstone,
tracing the name with his fingers.His
name.“What can I say?I’m going to be buried here someday.I want to know what it’ll be like for my
family to visit me.”

I Survived!

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About Me

I am many things: a writer, a mother, a wife, a certified nutcase. Well, maybe not certified. No one ever had me tested. My characters exist in my head like multiple personalities. I deal with my insanity by putting it on paper for others to read.